Prisoners of the Heart
by InnerFathoms
Summary: AU ROMY. Rogue sits in a cell, kidnapped and left in the dark. A Cajun who can't stand to see her pain befriends her. The bond they forge will be a means of survival, as an undeniable attraction leads to difficulties.
1. Prisoner of the Darkness

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters; they are all Marvel's property...**

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_**Prisoners of the Heart**_

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**A/N: **_This is an AU storysetafter the events of "Self-Possessed." Rogue awakens while chained in a shadowed cell with her memories hazyand her mind foggy. After the many mutants in Bayville learn of her latest episode and her current fraility, many believe they can protect heror save her, while others are starving for the intensity and control of her growing powers. As shestruggles with the darkness around her and within her, unbeknownst to Rogue, a certain Cajun is willing to bend all the rules and stretch all trusts and alliances, no matter the cost, soas long as her pain is taken away. For Remy LeBeau knows love can be painful, as can betrayal,but he has yet to discover how muchhis heart can endure for the Untouchable...and how powerless two Southerners are against a love impossible to deny..._

Enjoy!

**ChapterOne:** _Prisoner of the Dark_

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The rattling of chains awakened her and darkness greeted her, followed by a dull ache in her head and icy air prickling her face. Her hair fell in front of her face, but she was unable to swipe the stark white bangs away. Her head hurt too much to shake, and the bangs stayed, draped over her face.

Not that she could see anyways.

The room stank, not foul-worthy enough to merit a gag of repulsion, but enough to make her recoil in disgust. Dank and dreary was what she thought of, maybe a sewer. She hoped it wasn't sewer smells, which would mean concrete labyrinths, over-sized rats, and slimy rivers galore. Her eyes had yet to adjust to the dark, and her snow-color bangs continued to obscure what little sight she had gained. And her head pounded. Her back ached. The list could go on and on.

_Where am Ah?_

Unlike the discomforts of her current space and wandering mind, something else entered her mind and stirred her into quivers. She was familiar with it enough, even before the night long ago, back home in Mississippi, when her life had changed at an innocent dance. She felt that sensation, back when she danced with poor Cody the football player, and she felt it now, certainly not the second time in her life. But still, she felt it, stranded in the darkness, blind and injured…_Fear_._ Confusion. Disbelief._

Rogue was afraid.

Worse, she was alone, and hardly anything good could come from being alone, especially bound by chains-----those frightened her the most. You don't just get chains wrapped around your wrists accidentally. Someone wanted her here, wherever _here_ was, of course. The darkness made her uneasy, the cold made her uncomfortable, and the stony floor beneath her made her butt hurt.

But the rattling of the chains meant someone was out there, out there watching _her_, or waiting for _her_, and her mind was too fuzzy at the moment to recollect if she'd been kidnapped. Living with the X-men prepared her for such a discovery; far worse things had occurred lately.

_There's too many of them!_

Her head dropped into her hands. Despite the weariness that had recently settled into her bones, Rogue was at least somewhat grateful that she was too numb to feel the total impact of the situation.

_Kidnapped. Chains. Can't remember…_

After another minute, her eyes adjusted enough to make out the form of thin, closely-spaced bars trapping her in what was most likely a cell. Rogue groaned, kicked at the cell bars, and almost sprained her ankle. She squealed and fell on her side, withering because the floor felt so cold and slimy.

_Kidnapped…_

The prospect was still settling in her fragile mind, falling through the cracks each time she tried to grasp it. She felt torn from the inside, severed and shattered, as if her mind was in pieces and unable to function properly. Worse, echoes in her head began to surface, riddling her spine with chills.

_You're lettin' them push you around. The Rogue I know wouldn't take that offa _anyone.

"Logan?"

Pain fluttered in her skull, driving her into a slump against the stone wall behind her. She rested her chin on her chest, eyes closed, knuckles throbbing. _Burning under her skin…_

Memories had yet to reveal themselves, but the veil masking them from her was very thin. Rogue sensed the burning in her hands and understood what it indicated. Fear was unraveling her slowly, methodically, peeling away her layers of thick skin and toughness and leaving her susceptible to things far darker. _Herself._ Fear was universal and multi-faceted, a shape-shifter in itself-----

_If you have my memories then you know our relationship…Search your memories. You are my daughter…_

Betrayal wore black leather over blue skin with fiery red hair. For some reason, Rogue's skin _crawled_, and in the dark, and since she was unable to see, her imagination conspired against her with a picture of her paled flesh morphing into blue skin. Her stomach clenched and her head spun.

"What is goin' on in mah _head_?"

Thankfully, she was still alone. At the moment, Rogue felt enough trouble dealing with herself, her powers, without the psycho who chained her up further complicating matters.

_There's too many of them!_

_There's something about betrayal…_

_Who your true friends are…I have no friends!_

For all the voices surging through her head as company, Rogue still managed to slide farther into the dark loneliness of her new home. She was _so_ tired…

"Ah guess it's true that misery loves company." As draining as the voices were, they were still tiny tethers to people she truly cared about, people who cared about _her_…At least, most of the voices were…

The X-Men would be looking for her, no doubt. Soon, or maybe they'd already started. Nobody kidnaps a mutant, especially a disturbed, fatigued mutant just released out of the Med Bay-----_yes_, she was staring to recover some memories, as fragmented and hollow as they were-----without the whole team going bonkers. That thought comforted her, knowing that her disappearance would not go unnoticed, that it would anger and enrage and frighten those close to her.

Rogue only hoped she could survive long enough to see the cavalry arrive…She was starting to have to pee…

The shadows mocked her predicament.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_He listens to her sweet voice when she speaks. Her beautiful face is regrettably hidden in the shadows, but her sultry drawl lifts his spirits and fuels desires long uncovered but yet attended to. He knows she will put up a good fight, as she is one of the toughest _femmes_ he's ever encounter. Certainly one of the most dangerous. He believes that kisses can be fatal, but this _femme_ packs a wallop of truth behind her succulent lips. He dislikes the fact that she is uncomfortable, but if she were sitting right in front of him, liberated, her hands would no doubt be around his neck, stunning him into unconsciousness before her strangling attempt could have any affect. They_ are_ enemies, of course. For now, at least. He wants this to change, and can't help but imagine what other games she will play with him. He is afraid that, even though she is far from fragile, this _femme_ could be broken. She was already scarred and disturbed, and probably stabbed in the back enough to mar her trust of almost anyone. So he waits, impatiently, leaning back in a foldout metallic chair, rubbing his chin as he watches her. He grows increasingly restless. He waits not by his rules, but by another's. This ticks him off, but the payoff is big, in the form of an unpredictable woman in need of a mate who can both comfort her and charm her. Their first encounter had been explosive, and he's been watching her since, studying her lovely little eccentricities and her admirable fortitude for all that she's been through and all that she is. She is perfect for him in his eyes and he will not let her escape. They will have to work on the whole _touching_ factor, though…_

"Remy gonna take real nice care of you, _chere_. Don' you worry."

_He smiles and picks up his lady luck, the queen of hearts, from the table next to him. As it glows in a mesmerizing flare, he imagines that it is Rogue's dazzling face within the dancing kinetic energy. He grins and the charged card lights up his unnatural eye color for only the darkness to see._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"She sure ain't movin' around much, Chuck."

"Logan, if I recall, she did only leave the Med Lab yesterday. Give her some time, she'll come around."

Scoffing, Logan said, "Probably tryin' to avoid my training sessions."

"Possibly. That _would _explain why everyone around here seems to be "over-sleeping" lately."

"Bunch of lazy ass teens. Wouldn't know hard work if it hit 'em in the face and kicked 'em when they fell." Logan said, smirking as he closed Rogue's bedroom door.

"I always knew you had such a way with children, Logan."

As the door closed shut behind Logan and the Professor, the sun began to set outside, behind the tips of the surrounding forest, and an auburn-white head lay peacefully on the pillow, snuggled in the bed closest to the window. Rogue rolled onto her side, pulled on the bed sheets, and as the sun continued to dip into the horizon, a small frown formed on her lips as she began to dream.

**xxxxxxxxxx**

-fathoms-


	2. Prisoner of Compassion

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters; they are Marvel's property.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_Prisoners of the Heart_

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**A/N: **First off, thank yous go out to all who reviewed the first chapter. Please keep reviewing and let me know how the story is going from the readers' perspectives. Secondly, any confusion from the last chapter should be cleared up, as a few answers to some questions should appear in this chapter. My attempts at the mysterious and suspense are not quite honed enough yet. And lastly, I will try to update a little quicker next time. Read on for Rogue and Gambit's first meeting and also a few more explanations.

Enjoy!

Review!

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Chapter Two: **_Prisoner of Compassion_

Due to the illumination of the surveillance screen, the darkness of Rogue's cell did not obscure the visual, and the two mutants in the control room had a clear view of the tortured mutant, chained to the floor as she curled up in a ball.

"What's wrong wit' her, Magneto?"

"The girl's broken, Remy. When she made contact with Mystique, she discovered quite a few unpleasant truths that had been hidden from her for some time now. The betrayal she suffered, combined with her growing powers, disrupted her mental control over her powers. Each of her personalities fought-----are _still_ fighting-----for control over Rogue's being."

"_Pauvre fille_. All messed up in the head. Y' say they still fightin'?"

Magneto nodded and tapped a keypad, rendering the glowing screen dark. "I think the girl deserves a little privacy, don't you?"

Leaning back in his seat, feet kicked up on the console, Gambit tilted his head back to look up into his master's darkened face. "How can we help her?"

"_This_ is helping her, Gambit. I can promise you that Xavier did not know how to properly deal with Rogue's new manifestation. He made an impulsive decision, recklessly driving out all the other personalities she'd absorbed. This has left her very confused, empty, and feeble. I believe that some of those erased personalities have left lingering imprints on her psyche."

His feet left the console and the chair swiveled to face Magneto in the center of the control room. "What does dat mean?"

Magneto shook his head in sympathy for the girl, and tapped on his helmet for indication. "Her mind, Gambit, has been a sponge for all other aspects of the individuals she has parasitically united with, and though they were eradicated from her mind by telepathy, these personalities have left mental fingerprints. Echoes of voices, sensations of leeched mutant powers and other phenomenon might be afflicting her in the dark as we speak."

"Den why the hell are we sittin' 'round? Shouldn't we be savin' the girl?" Gambit pleaded, his dark eyes flashing as he stood up from the chair. At full height, he stood an inch over his master, but the Master of Magnetism still appeared to be looming over his Acolyte.

Smirking, Magneto said, "Tell me, Gambit, would you be willing to go in there and try to comfort her? You, who has no personal investment in the girl, you, who is an enemy to her and her team, you, who drugged and kidnapped the girl, chained her to a cold floor and left her imprisoned in the dark. The mental trauma she's suffered could still be affecting her, thus making Rogue volatile and unpredictable. There is a _reason_ why she is being held so cruelly right now."

"Jus'…if she's hurtin', wouldn't it be right t' take care o' her? Bein' in the dark is only gonna make her more volatile an' unpredictable."

With a swift hand motion, Magneto dismissed the Acolyte's admission. "This is no time to indulge in empathy, Gambit. The dark will harden her, yes. But when we show her light and trust and control, she will be all the more willing, all the more _starved_ for what we have to offer." The grim crease of Magneto's mouth became a frown. "I think of you as someone who knows what's _right_ isn't always what's _best_, Gambit. Look at Xavier and the X-men…They think they're doing right, but we know otherwise, don't we?"

Hesitant, Gambit gave a half-nod, his questioning expression shadowed by the glow from other surveillance screens. "S'pose you're right den, Magneto. That doesn't mean she'll come t' us willingly."

"And that is precisely why we did not leave her with five-star accommodations. The isolation and darkness will breed fear in the girl. If we use that as leverage, we can harvest a little trust."

"Hasn't de girl been manipulated enough? She be stabbed in de back so much dat her trust is probably marred forever."

"There are means at our disposal that will make sure she trusts us. I've let too many fall into Xavier's grasp…This is my second chance to right a wrong and liberate a mutant capable of limitless potential. I _will not_ let her fall through the cracks."

"Jus' don' steal her sanity, _homme_. Dis _femme_ has been through plenty o' agony already, non?" Gambit kept his voice gruff and controlled. There was no way he would whine to Magneto. A man of such power would cripple someone, especially one of his own Acolytes, who showed such weakness. Magneto would condemn him if he let his emotions rule his tongue.

However, despite his attempt at nonchalance, Magneto's leveling gaze seemed to cut through the cool demeanor he used to disguise his genuine interest in the girl. "Get too close and she'll sting, Gambit. I'm sure you know what happened to the boy she shared an innocent dance with…and her emotions are as deadly as her powers. One dictates the other and they both correlate with a fate already befallen by many. Would you risk losing your _life force_ to her touch, Gambit? Your memories, your identity, your powers, your skills; all hers within a moment of contact with her fatal flesh. In regards to potency, she is the most powerful of us all…"

Magneto exited the control room, his royal cape flowing behind him, as the electronic door sealed behind him. Gambit contemplated his parting warning. A mutant of Magneto's caliber and ego would not openly regard another mutant as more powerful than himself, even while disguising the proclamation with a technicality. He hadn't actually said Rogue was more powerful, but that her capacity for power was greater than his or any other mutants. And as an icy flow cooled his marrow, he began to imagine what it would be like to lose everything to a single touch…the untouchable Rogue was a thief unlike any Gambit had ever encountered. Her powers, impressive, to say the least, would be a major asset to any mission…

"Soon, _cherie_. Let's jus' wait an' see what old Mags has got planned."

Alone in the control room once more, Gambit found his place in the metal seat in front of the basement surveillance console, and within seconds of tapping a few selective keys, Rogue's sleeping, fetal-like form appear in front of his eyes.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The deathly calm silence of the cell was both disquieting and mysterious. Because of the darkness, Rogue was not sure when exactly her eyes had open and she'd awaken. Cloaked in shadows, the blackest silk sheets, Rogue remained in her curled-up position; the fetal position, some would call it. Her chin touched her knee caps and her cheek pressed against the cold floor, numb. The last time she'd been like this had been the first day of a nightmare and the last day of her residence in Caldecott, Mississippi.

When her powers had emerged during a reckless dance…

_What's the harm in one dance?_

Rogue didn't have the strength to chide herself for simply being a teenage girl that night almost two years ago. Before that, she'd always heeded Irene's warnings of a "skin condition" and for some reason she had believed her guardian. Everything unraveled with one dance…and one devastating touch.

_Guess Ah deserved it for dancin' with backwoods trash,_ a hauntingly familiar Southerner's drawl said from inside her head.

Rogue screamed into the darkness, her numbness gone, her security banished. Her pulse quickened and her head banged against the floor, as she rolled on her back and screamed again, tears forming beneath her closed eyes.

_What's wrong, Rogue? Feelin' a pang o' guilt?_

The young man's voice infiltrated her thoughts, her momentary peace, and her head throbbed from where she knocked the stone floor. Her vision of the dark blurred and her flesh chilled.

Never in her life had anyone she'd absorbed talked to her inside her head. The experience unleashed a wave of pain and vertigo that forced her to grapple the floor as if gravity had reversed its rules and the untouchable mutant was about to fall upwards.

Having never been at sea, Rogue could imagine that this was her own version of seasickness, as she clung to the floor that felt like it was weaving among choppy waves, initiating a bout of nausea in her stomach.

_Poor, poor, poor witch. Can't even keep her head screwed on straight._

It was Cody's voice. Her first touch. Her first _victim_. Somehow, his voice was talking to her, each word rippling with effects of a migraine and vertigo. His words were uncharacteristically malicious. The voices inside her head were nothing new, but never had they talked specifically to her. She only heard echoes of speech, never a direct address. The voices never held conversations with her.

_All alone…Withering in pain, Ah know the feelin'. Can you hear my voice, does it hurt? Tell me, Rogue, is it agony? Does your skull feel like it's splitting apart?_

"_Yes! It hurts! Get outta mah head! Out! Out! Out! Out!_"

_Rogue…_

Rogue's eyes opened to the sound of a husky voice, and the nausea in her stomach became a fluttering sensation, like butterflies. The silence confirmed that Cody had ceased to exist inside her head, and the horrible, hot throbbing in her temple had subsided, relinquishing its spasmodic control over her muscles. Her whole body felt numb, and the desolate silence of her head reigned over all her conscious thought. She feared that the slightest movement would invite Cody to take up his position as an unruly commentator of her affliction once more, his voice like a fire on her synapse, needles to her psyche. Short breaths escaped her parted lips rapidly, but she could only suck in short bursts of oxygen. Her head reeled with dizziness, even though she was flat on her back against the stone floor, hardly moving except for her fluttering eyes and the rising and falling of her chest. The world was spinning, yet the darkness deceived her and told her everything was still.

"Wake up, _mon bonbon_," the darkness said.

_Ah am awake_, she wanted to say, but her throat closed up and her voice was lost inside her. Two crimson orbs gleamed in the shadows, the only illumination she'd seen since waking up in the cell. They floated in the dark sea of shadows just outside the cell bars.

"Remy come t' bring y' some food."

The name meant nothing to her, but the voice was that of a Cajun. As Rogue's eyes locked on the tiny orbs, a tall, broad figure's visage became visible as her eyes adjusted to the dark. Before she could turn away, the orbs, scarlet painted on black, mesmerized her. The dull ache in her bones gave way to a new feeling, and the aching in her skull slipped away. A man stood at her cell, his fingers extended as if he were reaching out to bridge the space between himself and Rogue. His fingers laced around the cell bars. His dark eyes continued to arouse her, and she was lost in them.

"_Ne pas me craindre_. Remy jus' gonna slip a plate in here for ya. It ain't poisoned or none. Jus' good o' Southern cookin'."

A succulent aroma composed of familiar scents whet Rogue's appetite, entering through her nostrils and reminding her of how hungry she was. Her previously dormant stomach released a growl loud enough to belittle any attempts at declining the food from the stranger. The rumbling in her gut overruled any paranoia, and after groping through the dark, her hands settled around the edges of a paper plate. Her pointer finger tapped a plastic fork, and she was no sooner shoveling food into her mouth when the stranger gave a dry chuckle.

"Remy never seen any _femmes_ eat like that 'fore. Rogue must know a man's good cookin' when she eats it."

Through mouthfuls of simmering rice and gumbo, unaware of her own burning tongue due to the peppers on her plate, Rogue asked, "Did ya cook all this for me?"

More chuckling, and then in a voice that continued to stir Rogue, "You be eatin' de best meal in dis whole building. But no, Remy didn't cook all this himself. Remy did supply all the recipes, though. Cajun cookin' is unlike anyt'ing else, _cherie_."

She had stopped listening to him halfway through his response. His voice was so masculine and charming, but the food was better. She hoped he'd brought another plate.

"Water."

"'Course, girl. Remy always come' prepared." She heard him set it down on the floor between the cell bars. She reached out, tipped the bottle over, and then quickly snatched it up. She drained half of it, the icy water doing wonders for her parched throat and peppered tongue. Returning to the remainder of her meal, she nursed the water bottle between bites of steaming Cajun and Creole cooking, and in her opinion, some of the best Southern cuisine she'd had in a long while. She'd been away from home for far too long.

Sadly, the Cajun had no more food with him. Once Rogue had cleared the plate and emptied the water bottle, she was still hungry, though at least somewhat satisfied. Her eyes drooped and she rested her head against the bars, hoping to catch a better glimpse of her Cajun to the rescue. All she could see were his boots. She looked up and found him standing over her, the cell bars still between him and those eyes still like tiny flares in the dark.

"Are ya gonna leave me in here? Mah bladder's about to explode."

"Only if Rogue be a good girl an' waits fo' Remy t' lock the outer door."

"Whateva, jus' hurry," Rogue pleaded, and gasped as the shackles around her wrists broke apart with a bright flash that lit the darkness. Surprised, she scooted backwards on the floor until her back touched the wall. She really did want him to hurry. The half-liter of water she'd drunk was putting quite a strain on her nether regions.

A blinding fluorescent light assaulted her eyes and rendered her temporarily blind. When Rogue adjusted to the brightness, having been stuck in the dark probably two or three hours, she crept to her feet and gave the cell door a nudge. The door swung open.

A burst of hope filled Rogue and made her quasi-dizzy, until she remembered her urge to relieve herself. To her left were an open door and a spotless bathroom, contrary to the condition of the rest of the room. She rushed into it, slid the door closed, and found relief in seconds.

Once she finished washing her hands and splashing cold water on her face, Rogue looked into the mirror at her disheveled appearance and dingy clothes, but she was actually smiling. With a nice bathroom, a little more moving space, and good Cajun cooking resting in her belly, things were starting to look up.

Just as she'd expected, the only other door in the tiny, low ceiling room was locked. Her luck wasn't looking up _that_ much.

But when she looked back at the open cell, she noticed a small object nestled in the pile of rusty chains on the floor. She walked over and reached down, plucking out, of all things, a playing card. She flipped it over and found herself staring down at the queen of hearts. The edges were frayed and the card looked well-worn, or, in this case, well-played, as if she were always the card to be counted on in games where luck was not just real; it was everything to certain people.

When a light finally went on in Rogue's weary, aching head, her mouth dropped open and the card slid between her gloved thumb and pointer finger. She whipped around towards the only door leading out of the room, still gawking as things continued to fall into place within her mind.

The Cajun accent. The charming voice. The queen of hearts. How had she been so _stupid!_

They'd only met twice before, Rogue and the Cajun stranger. She didn't know his name, but she knew his face, his voice, and his trademark playing cards. He was one of Magneto's Acolytes, but the twenty dollar question of the day asked whether or not he was now flying solo. Rogue hadn't seen him since he'd contacted the Brotherhood months ago, when she and Kitty had played hooky during sixth period and "hitchhiked" their way into a battle that ended with Kitty saving Pietro and Rogue rescuing a soldier. She had no idea if the Cajun was still one of Magneto's cronies.

Today marked their third meeting. Rogue was not just his mere enemy anymore, but judging by all that had happened lately, she was now his prisoner, too…

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Come _on_, Rogue! Will you unlock the door already?"

"Shush, Kitty! Ah'm on the phone."

Rolling her eyes, Kitty slammed her fist into the door. Learning the boundaries of privacy had been tough for someone who was not physically bound by walls and closed doors. She'd walked in on too many people, had seen too many things she did not want to ever see again, and that had been enough to jilt her into respecting everyone else's privacy. Normal, respectful people just don't go passing through closed bedroom doors…

"If I wasn't a nice person…" Kitty said, listening to Rogue talk in a hush voice, most likely on the phone. She didn't understand why her roommate wouldn't allow her to enter if she was only talking on the phone. _Respecting privacy sucks_, she decided.

"Don't tell me you're locked out of your room."

Kitty stopped her pouting and threw an innocent glance at Scott Summers, man of ruby quartz shades and victim of a bad haircut. Ten minutes alone with that mane and she would make it look daring and not so bland.

"Did you forget you can pass through solid objects?"

"Do I _look_ like an imbecile, Scott? Quit badgering me or I'll walk through _you_, and maybe take an organ or two with me."

"Ouch," Scott said, staggering backwards in mock offense. The fact that she could do something so morbid-----she had the power but not the will-----forced his mouth shut. Kitty smirked through a pang of guilt, but then broke down and apologized.

"Rogue's just been getting on my nerves lately."

"How so?"

"Well, I know she, like, just got out of the Med Bay and all. And I know she's been pretty whacked up and all, but she's been so…_weird_ lately."

Scott gave a sheepish grin. "Who, Rogue? Weird? No kidding."

Kitty ignored his crack and continued. "She's been sort of moody."

Scott opened his mouth, and Kitty slugged him in the arm, having to swing upwards because of the major height difference. "Ow!"

"Well, you deserved it! I knew you were going to make another sarcastic remark. Seriously, Scott, get some new material. You aren't the funny type."

Mr. Serious Leader shrugged and finally reverted back to his old self. "Has she said anything to you?"

"No, that's the point! She won't even talk to me! And she's always sleeping, or being sneaky." Kitty turned toward the door, shouting, "_Like right now!_"

No response from inside the bedroom.

"I wouldn't be surprised if she's a little detached after everything that happened to her," Scott said, looking at the door.

"Me, too. But she _isn't_ that way, Scott. No mourning, no bitterness, no lamenting. She's just tuned off, concerned with other things and very suspicious. Do you think she's on drugs?"

"Kitty, its Rogue we're talking about." Kitty continued to stare at him, hands on her hips. "_Kitty._"

"Morphine, maybe? Does that, like, affect her personality along with alleviating the pain? Maybe it's symptoms or something."

"She was taken off the morphine after the first night. She was only given it once, Kitty. That was almost a week ago."

"Well…" Kitty stamped her foot on the floor, stumped by the lack of explanations.

The door suddenly opened, swinging inwards with a jerk.

"Room's all yours, Kit." Rogue slid past her, said nothing to Scott, and headed down the hall.

"Weird," the pair said in unison, watching her turn the corner and disappear.

Once Rogue was out of sight, Kitty dashed into the bedroom and straight to the phone on the nightstand.

As she picked it up, Scott said, "Invasion of privacy." He would not come in the room. Kitty ignored him and hit #69, which would call the last person Rogue talked to. She paused, considering the fact that Rogue might've been the one to place the call. A sneaky person would not want fellow conspirators to call them if they themselves could do the calling. Then again, if Rogue was truly up to something, she might not want to dial out from a phone in the mansion, as the Professor kept immaculate phone records. "Guilty conscience?" Scott asked, noting her hesitation.

Kitty pushed the redial button and held her breath, expectant. "Hello?"

A woman's voice. Kitty remained silent. Rogue had placed the call after all.

"Raven, is that you?"

The phone fell from Kitty's trembling hands, and she stumbled backwards, bumping the side of her bed. A static-filled voice asked, "Raven?"

"Scott, I…"

"What?" He was behind her, switching gazes between the phone and Kitty.

"We have got to get the Professor." She bent down and picked up the phone, clicking it off. "There's something _really bad_ going on."

She turned around to face him, and the back of his fist caught her cheek with such force that Kitty spun, spilling into the wall and crying out. Dazed, she crumbled to the floor, on the brink of consciousness. Scott knocked her head against the drawer of the nightstand, and then she was out cold on the floor.

"Sneaky sluts deserve to be banged around," he hissed, and then picked up the phone. With his foot, he slid the unconscious Kitty away from the nightstand and stood next to it, hitting the redial button. He sat down on the side of the bed.

A female voice answered after the first ring. "Hello?"

"There've been a few changes, Irene," Mystique said, as Scott's form shifted into her true form. "Has your vision changed any?"

A pause on the other end of the line; then a sigh. "No, Raven. The boy is still in her future."

"Fine. I'll see what information I can find on him."

"How will you use Cerebro?"

"No need to," Mystique said. She gave a cautious glance behind her, regretting having left the door open. Scott Summers' crumpled form lay in the threshold to the room, bleeding from a gash on his temple. Unconscious. She was surprised the girl had not heard her teammate go down. Kitty Pryde lay at her feet, moaning but still very much stunned. Purple and blue contusions were forming on the flesh beneath one of her bangs. Her cheek was already puffy.

"Raven?"

"I'm here, Irene. Xavier keeps physical records aside from the data stored in Cerebro. Locating those files will be simple."

"How have they not detected you yet, Raven?"

Mystique smirked, shaking her head. "Never doubt me, Irene. Their surveillance system was easy to foil, and the X-men themselves are even easier to deceive. Only the telepaths and Wolverine would ever have a chance of detecting my presence. I've learned to…adapt and hone my resistances. If I stay too long though, their powers will eventually catch onto me."

"Then go, Raven. But remember…"

"Yes, yes, I _know_. The boy, Gambit, is in her future. I'm sure Xavier will have a file on him as one of Magneto's Acolytes. I'll contact you again soon."

Clicking the phone off, Mystique placed it back on the nightstand and stood up. Her form shifted like amorphous gel, her blue skin melting into white, her bone structure shifting to that of someone shorter and with different curves. Her fiery mane blended into auburn and white hairs. Her eyes became white behind green irises. She glanced at the armoire beside her, with Rogue's reflection in the mirror. Guilt toiled in her only momentarily. There was something wrong about impersonating your own daughter, one of the few people in the world Mystique cared about, almost the only person she would sacrifice herself for. If Irene had told her that Kurt had a chance of being saved, she would've sacrificed for him as well. At the moment, Rogue was her major concern.

Once Scott was in the closet and Kitty behind the open door, hidden between it and the wall inside the bedroom, Mystique hurried into the hall. The two teens would awaken soon, and she _must_ have that file.

Ten minutes later, as Scott and Kitty stumbled out of the bedroom and into the hall, both of them semi-conscious, a hawk clutching a manila folder soared towards the woods of Charles Xavier's property. With a wordless cry, it dived into the brush, unseen by anyone in the mansion.

Mystique had found what she had sought. The new man in Rogue's life had quite a colorful history. With Gambit's folder in her possession, Mystique set out to continue her attempts at bringing home her dear Rogue, before the Cajun had enough time to steal her away forever.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Translations:

_pauvre fille_-**poor girl**

_homme_-**man**

_femme(s)_-**woman (women)**

_cherie_-**darling**

_mon bonbon_-**my sweet**

_Ne pas me craindre_-**Don't fear me**

-fathoms-


	3. Rebellion

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters; they're Marvel's property.**

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_Prisoners of the Heart_

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**A/N: **Just throwing this out, but this fic won't be very long. I'm working on a second one after this that should have a lot more promise, but I will finish this one first of course. Hope the action plays out well in this chapter; I had fun writing it. And on a sidenote, if anyone likes Romy oneshots, feel free to check out _Touch. _It's a different, better portrayal of Romy than this one. Enjoy!

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_Rebellion_

A knock at the door came hours later, stirring Rogue from her boredom. The voices residing in her head had kept exceptionally quiet, which had allowed her time to entertain her own thoughts without the impeding of repressed personalities that had supposedly been driven out. Recent turmoil had triggered some instability in her recovering powers. Currently, no options of escape had presented themselves, and Rogue was content to wait for her captors to come to her before she made any moves. One slipup was all she was counting on, and she would not let that window of opportunity pass without action.

Before the door slid open, Rogue ducked into the bathroom and locked herself in, slipping a glove off tentatively in preparation for action. If saving her life came down to using her powers, Rogue would do it. After losing control of her powers a week ago, the thought of testing them out brought some hesitancy. The ramifications of touch would not only be physically dangerous, but also mentally, as the Professor's telepathic clean-house had left her mind slightly feeble.

Her reflection showed no signs of the chaos flowing through her mind. Steely eyed and grim faced, Rogue's outer appearance belayed her inner feelings in too many ways to count. It was better this way, lest any one of her captors---however many there were---tried to feed off any visible vulnerabilities. She couldn't give them the upper hand, especially since she was already the one on the disadvantage side of the spectrum. She was the prisoner, after all.

Sharp claws punctured the metal door, and in a matter of seconds, it was render useless and torn off the threshold. Standing well near seven feet, Sabertooth cast the crumpled metal to the side, where it clanged against the cell bars with a hollow chime.

As the feral giant bent down to enter the bathroom, Rogue suddenly felt like the room had shrank to half its original size. Sabertooth may have seemed reckless and dizzied by primal desires, but he wasn't about to bump his head on the top of the door frame and knock himself out, thus allowing Rogue a means of escape. The yellow intensity of his cat-like eyes focused on her, and that one stare confirmed in Rogue's heart that this mutant would not be making any slipups. Wherever he wanted her to go, she was going to go. Any form of defiance would only earn her a broken limp or crushed ribs.

The giant bore down on her in the bathroom, his huge stature barely squeezing into the tiny compartment with her. "Your presence is requested, girlie," he snarled, seizing her wrist. Her whole hand vanished in his gargantuan grip. "Wanna try and escape?"

Rogue shook her head. "Jus' get me outta here."

Contrary to her compliance, Sabertooth acted as if she was resisting him the whole way. With brute force he dragged her, practically ripped her arm out of the socket. Pain bloomed in the crevice of her shoulder and upper arm every time he jerked her closer. Her hand had long since grown numb, buried in his vise grip. No bones had been crushed, but in due time, Rogue began to worry that his grip would suddenly squeeze her gloved hand until he turned it into splintered bones and mush.

The image motivated her to stay as close to the brute as she could, hoping that her submission would save her from further harm.

After an excruciating five minutes of traveling with Sabertooth through a metal labyrinth, the feral mutant finally paused and hit the wall. Defined lines appeared in crisscross form, and the wall separated by taking on the form of a sliding door.

Rogue stepped into what appeared to be a circular chamber with metal décor and a dome ceiling arcing overhead. Beneath the fluorescent glow of bulbs plugged in the ceiling and upper half of the room's circumference, a vacant chair with its base connected to the floor stood in the center of the room.

Rogue and her harasser were not alone.

Across from where they entered, Magneto and the remaining Acolytes resided with mixed expressions, all of them facing Rogue. The Acolyte master was the only one of the group whose expression was hidden beneath the shadows created by his helmet.

The steel-skinned behemoth---now in his flesh form---wore sympathetic eyes, and for some reason Rogue believed the cataracts of empathy pooling in his baby blues.

The one with the fire fetish scanned her quickly and then glanced at his boss, anticipating quite a show. His giddiness would've been vocalized, Rogue assumed, along with plenty of pyrotechnics had his somber master not been present, thus taming his exuberance.

The Cajun---Remy---did not show as much sympathy as he had shown her in the cell. His compassion must've been limited by his master's presence in the room, but intuition told her something lie beneath the surface of his indifferent facial expression.

The fourth and only stranger to the group, a smaller man with untamed hair, donning a cloak and hunching over, showed the most intent out of any of them. His eyes were fixated on Rogue; albeit the nervous look he cast toward Magneto every few seconds. Rogue knew without a doubt that he would be involved in this somehow, whatever Magneto had planned for her. This strange man had obviously been brought in for specific purposes.

"Hello, Rogue." Magneto offered nothing more, his hollow face still expressionless inside the frame of his trademark headwear.

"Ah have ah right ta know why Ah'm here," Rogue demanded in a voice that made it sound more like a plea. The count was six-versus-one. Bad odds to do any real demanding.

"I have an offer for you. You can either accept what I am about to require of you, and I will make sure it is all painless and free of any discomfort. Or, you can struggle and be defiant. I'm sure you know where that path will lead you."

"An' why would ya be offerin' this ta me?"

"Everyone deserves a chance for a little mercy, dear." His eyes were cast in shadows of the past. Sabertooth shoved her forward and into the metal chair in the middle of the room. "Sit."

Rogue sat.

"Mastermind here will search through your memories and wipe away all the clutter in your head. In exchange, he will be seeking certain memories concerning your elusive foster mother."

"What? Mystique? Ah don't know where she is! Why do ya care?"

Magneto's cape flapped at his heels as he walked closer. "You of all people, Rogue, should know how conniving the woman can be. I have discovered a tryst between her and the mutant known as Mesmero."

"That crazy guy with the tattoos on his face? The one who played us into stealin' those rings months ago?"

"Yes, the same mutant who tricked us into destroying the spider guardian. We had him in our possession, but…limited resources resulted in his escape and left us without much information."

Squirming in the chair, Rogue said, "Ah still can't help ya with anything."

"We shall see. The quicker you assist us the quicker we set you free."

She doubted that very much, but the metal clip that wrapped around her abdomen and pinned her to the chair convinced her to stifle any concerns. The man Magneto had referred to as Mastermind crept closer to Rogue, his stump fingers extended and weaving through the air.

As his eyes glowed with a cerulean hue, his mutant powers activating, the Cajun stepped in between him and Rogue gasped. The diversion caused Mastermind to lose focus of his target and thus deactivate his powers.

"Gambit," Magneto beckoned, "what're you doing?"

"If de girl says she doesn't know anyt'ing, why subject 'er t' all this?"

Gambit stood close to Rogue, his position offering a distraction more than protection, warranting Rogue precious moments to devise a plan. Whatever Magneto had Mastermind brewing up, it was somewhere between telepathy and hypnosis, probably deleting or reconstructing memories. Her mind was definitely too fragile at the moment, and no matter what Buckethead had said, the experience was going to be far from painless. Her attempts at reasoning had left her nowhere, as Magneto had chosen to ignore her plea of ignorance. In truth, Mystique's whereabouts were as mysterious to her as anyone else in the room.

"You're wasting precious time, Gambit. Mesmero and Mystique could already be putting the final pieces together!"

"Pieces o' what? Y' never told us what Mesmero's been plannin'."

Magneto had refrained from employing any other restraints on Rogue's body; the metallic band around her stomach prevented her from standing but not from leaning forward. Gambit's gloved hand dangled at his side within reach, the tips of his fingers exposed as the glove was not fully concealing. The odds were six-against-one, and Rogue wasn't going to get a better chance than now. It was too bad that the closest mutant to her was the only one who'd show any compassion toward her. It was either him or her, and Rogue chose not to let it be latter. If she stayed around too long, Magneto would simply brush Gambit to the side and force Mastermind into her head. Taking the Cajun's life force would be her _only_ ticket out of here without more mental trauma involved.

Clenching both her hands, Rogue felt the edges of the queen of hearts jab the flesh of her left hand, where it lay tucked in her glove, its usefulness becoming evident now but only if she reached out and grabbed Gambit's hand.

_Quit stallin'_, she demanded of herself, and her fingers finally started to work her right glove off. All the mutants she could see were watching Magneto and Gambit, except for Sabertooth hiding outside her line of sight. His presence was somewhere behind her and that made her uneasy. The fastest, wildest mutant of the bunch was in a position to take advantage of her vulnerability. But if all she did was sit and contemplate in the chair, she'd be vulnerable to whatever powers Mastermind possessed, once he got by Gambit.

The bickering continued and Gambit's hand went up and dropped back down at his side. _One chance…_

Rogue checked a second time to make sure all eyes were on the disagreement, and she made her move, testing the limitations of her restraint by bending forward as far as the strap allowed her, and she flailed her arms until her bare hand clasped tightly around all five of Gambit's right hand fingers.

All eyes were on her now.

Adrenaline kicked in as Gambit's life force flowed through her, along with his skills, abilities, memories, and mutant talents. She had trouble discerning most of the mess, but all she required at the moment were his powers, his skills, and his knowledge. Everything else jumbled through her mind but did not distract from the task at hand.

Escape was everything, and Rogue was ready to accept the costs.

Pressing her foot to Gambit's back as he began to sag, Rogue gave a thrust of her leg and sent the unconscious mutant tumbling into Mastermind, who nearly collided with Magneto. The mutant master avoided the collision with ease, sidestepping both Mastermind and Gambit. Before he could give a flick of the wrist and steal away Rogue's chance of escape by binding her with more metal, she urged the playing card tucked in her glove to ignite with kinetic energy. She yanked off her other glove and flicked the card at Magneto's feet, thankful that she had kept the seemingly frivolous item. It exploded upon impact with the metal floor, driving Magneto backwards and hindering his attempts at trapping Rogue in the chair.

A quick tap of her finger broke the bind around her abdomen, releasing Rogue from the chair. The air behind her shifted, and she lurched forward, ducking, as Sabertooth's fist plunged into the back of the chair, denting the metal and narrowly missing its target. Rogue spun and evaded a swipe by dropping to the floor, diving and rolling away a moment later to put space between her and the feral giant.

The youngest looking Acolyte with the flamboyant costume and flashy orange hair constructed a wall of fire that cascaded along the floor and snaked behind Rogue, temporarily blocking her escape. The only other Acolyte whose name Rogue did not recall plundered towards her, his skin shifting to that of an alloy, possibly steel. He narrowed his eyes at Rogue and reached for her, but the newly acquired acrobatics enabled Rogue to perform an evasive leap into the air, where she flipped and descended upon the behemoth's shoulders, grappling his face with one hand to keep her balance. The absorption lasted only a few seconds, as Rogue had to react to the pyromaniac behind her. Sliding forward and over the head of the crumpling mutant, Rogue planted her feet on the floor and placed both her palms against his trunk, lifting him upwards with her newfound strength and catapulting him at the other mutant. Having been drained of his powers, the dark haired mutant reverted back to his organic skin in mid-flight, but still weighed enough to ram the fire-wielder and take him down for the count.

Rogue sensed Sabertooth in mid-strike, and unable to avoid his attack, she pivoted into him, swinging her own hand and intercepting his claws. Their fingers interlaced, the absorption stunning him enough for Rogue to twist, place her back to his chest and grip his wrist with both of her hands. She brought her arms down in an arc, leveraging Sabertooth over her back and throwing him over her shoulder. The giant cat sailed through the air and landed at Magneto's feet.

As Rogue charged the Master of Magnetism, he unleashed a magnetic pulse that slammed her onto her back, jarring her senses. She landed with her legs flying up, and she held them there, bending them and then extending her arms to propel herself onto her feet. Before Magneto could hit her again, she braced the metal chair and charged it, as she tore it out of the floor and heaved it at Magneto. The chair fell far from its aim, halted in mid air by his powers, but the ensuing explosion knocked Magneto off his feet.

It did the same to Rogue.

As the detonation flung Rogue backwards, she built up steel skin and crashed into the door she had entered through. The door buckled under her momentum and added weight, and she landed on her back in the hallway, crushed metal cushioning her fall.

Her pale flesh returned, and she sprinted down the hall, mixed memories from three of the Acolytes rushing through her head and directing her to a room filled with a number of escape vehicles.

Only Rogue's footsteps echoed through the halls, yet she still moved as if her captors were almost on top of her. She shouldered through a door hidden in an alcove to her right, easily missed had she not absorbed its location through the Acolytes' memories.

She took the metal steps three at a time, hitting the cement floor in a rush and almost stumbling. Though careening, Rogue managed to reach out and grasp the front of a snowmobile before she toppled. The Acolytes were still far behind, but sticking around to see how much ground they could cover in a matter of seconds was not an entertaining idea.

Swinging one leg over the seat of the vehicle, Rogue tapped a button on the side of the console, activating a garage-like mechanism that revealed sloped terrain and the reminiscence of fallen snow. The snowmobile roared to life with a turn of the grip, and with the dissipating but still needed memories hanging in balance, Rogue picked out the quickest route off the mountain and onto the highway.

The icy air stung her face but the liberation of victory brought an excited gasp. She sucked in cold breaths that took a toll on her lungs, but with giddy anticipation, she was unable to stop taking in gulps of air.

Fifteen minutes later she hit the highway on foot, unable to bring the snowmobile down any farther on the mountain. Its usefulness had ended five minutes prior, and she'd only just slowed from a jog to a brisk walking pace. With constant glances over her shoulder, Rogue hurried along the road, reaching out with telepathic pleas to either the Professor or Jean, whoever would answer. It was a stretch, and distance was an important factor. She'd been gone for more than twelve hours, so they would be searching for her.

She was not being followed.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**A/N: **Please let me know how it turned out. Review! And expect another chapter in a couple of days.

-fathoms-


	4. Mind Games

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of these characters; they are all Marvel's property.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_Prisoners of the Heart_

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**A/N: **Much thanks to all those who reviewed so far; keep it up please! This chapter is a little shorter but I will try to post the next one sooner than this one took.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_Mind Games_

Bits of snow crunched under Raven Darkholme's booted feet, albeit a whisper of noise, even in the soundless solitude of the mountains. The metal dome was in her line of sight, positioned behind a rather voluptuous slope and tucked in between two banks amidst barren trees. It was an area traveled only by those seeking the dome or by anyone unlucky enough to stumble upon it by accident. Its obscure but well thought out location proved elusive, despite its closeness to Bayville's popular ski lodge and resort. The closest ski trails were at least two miles away, and the lands surrounding the dome were hardly touched, even by the mountain's inhabitants. How Magneto discovered such a milieu, Raven could only guess. The concealment, the location, the desertedness; all the factors chalked up for one well-selected base of operations for the mutant leader and his Acolytes. Had Mesmero not been able to pry the information out of some unlucky mutants' heads, they never would've come upon the dome.

They were here now, and that was the major issue. Raven knew her daughter was inside, and that Magneto was probably subjecting her to some kind of treatment determined to find out the shape-shifter's location. Mesmero had contacted Raven not long after their initial meeting to warn her that Magneto had acquired insubstantial but still usable pieces of information from his mind. Why he had chosen Rogue to divulge more information, she did not understand. Magneto had his reasons behind every action, but more often than not, the motives behind them were usually quite shadowed.

The objective was clear and to the point: break Rogue out of the Acolyte's domain, get her to absorb their powers, and then leave. As much as it disturbed her----though only slightly----Raven felt a slight reluctance towards manipulating her foster daughter once more. She wasn't the one in control and her intentions behind the plan were pure, to guarantee Rogue's and her own safety in the coming days of Apocalypse; but the simple fact she was using Rogue to gain something dug deep into her heart. However, a heart hardened over many years ago could not easily be influenced by even the deepest-dug holes.

Rogue would not understand her adoptive mother's reasons, but as long as Rogue was safe----whether she was appreciative or not wouldn't matter----then Raven would be satisfied.

"Are you ready, shape-shifter?" Mesmero whispered, his back to Raven.

The faintest of shifts in the air brought his haunting voice to her ears, and she replied, "Do what you have to."

Closing his eyes, the tattooed mutant summoned his talents of mental control; no sooner than two minutes did Sabretooth step out of a door in the dome, looking around with a dazed look playing across his face.

Raven took her cue, shape-shifting into an identical form of the mutant known as Wolverine, and leapt off the bank and onto the ground in front of her former ally. She distracted him long enough for Mesmero to slip through the open door and activate his power from inside the dome, rendering Sabretooth unconscious with little effort. As the feral hulk collapsed into the snow, Raven became his doppelganger and hurried after her accomplice.

As suspected, the inside of Magneto's temporary fortress was aligned with metal everywhere, from the ceiling to the floor, to the doors, walls, and random objects lying in the corridors. Mesmero disappeared from view as Pyro stepped into the corridor, dressed in his costume and tinkering with the fire-wielding devices on his arms.

"Find anything, mate," he asked, glancing up at his faux comrade. "Or were ya just searchin' for the litter box again?"

A smile cracked Pyro's face, but his joke did not raise anything from Raven. The real Sabretooth would've growled and probably started a fight, so she pretended that the other mutant's jab had annoyed her.

"Whoa, whoa, Sabes. I was only kiddin'."

The flame mutant was oblivious to everything, and Raven's patience was waning fast. With a quick swipe of claws and a roar, she tore through one of Pyro's fire blasters and ripped the sleeve of his uniform. Horrified, the other mutant backed away, staring at his unscathed arm and ruined invention, as well as ruined costume. Before he could respond with a burst of fire from his other blaster, Raven grabbed his forearm in Sabretooth's massive grip, crumpling the device with a small squeeze. Still unsure of what was going on, Pyro gave a weak struggle against his supposed teammate's grip, but Raven yanked him upwards and planted her palm to his stomach. With a growl, she hurled the Aussie mutant through the air and into a darkened room overflowing with crates. The crash was inaudible in the corridor, but Pyro would be down for at least a few minutes.

Heavy footsteps came from behind, and she turned around to find the steel-skinned Colossus coming towards her.

"Comrade, what is going----"

Mesmero stepped out from behind the silvery behemoth, his powers tapping into the Russian's mind and forcing him into a zombie-like placidness. With silent directing, Mesmero led Colossus down the corridor and through a door that led deeper into the dome.

"What's next?" Raven asked, already shifting her form into the second of the fallen Acolytes. Sabretooth's dirty blonde hair shortened and shifted into bright orange, his massive frame shrank to fit that of a smaller man.

"Prepare yourself, Mystique." Then he was gone, hiding further down the corridor while still in synch with Colossus. Raven dropped to the floor before the door opened, feigning unconsciousness when she heard Colossus enter with Magneto, telling his master that an intruder had breeched the supposedly secure perimeter.

"Mystique," the self-proclaimed Master of Magnetism echoed, and then looked down at Pyro hesitantly. "Get up, Pyro."

His instincts were correct, Raven accepted, but with his attention focused on her in disguise, he would be blindsided by Colossus when Mesmero gave the command for him to take down his master.

When Raven heard the sound of Colossus's fists connecting with Magneto's armor, she jumped up and morphed into a figure akin to that of the Acolyte master, who was currently residing on the floor, trying to pick himself up before Colossus bore down on him again. Raven planted her foot on Magneto's chest while Colossus slid the protective helmet off his head.

"Where's Rogue?" she demanded, once more in her true form.

"Mystique…I knew you'd be coming."

"_Where is she_?"

Her former boss raised his hand to conjure a magnetic pulse, but Mesmero was already in his mind, inflicting him by siphoning his consciousness. Magneto cried out and withered beneath Raven's foot, but she pinned him still and sneered at him, until he finally sagged and his eyes fell shut.

With Colossus's use at an end, Mesmero disposed of him without a blink, and the giant teetered to the floor, unconscious like his master.

"She's inside, Mystique. The illusionist has created an escape scenario that is playing through her mind, tricking her into believing that she is escaping from this place and heading towards home. Gambit is on guard, as the other mutant is unable to remain alert to his surroundings while influencing another with his powers. Sever the illusionist's connection and I will take care of the rest."

Raven stepped up to the open threshold and found Gambit with his back to her, facing Rogue and the illusionist mutant, the trio positioned in the center of the room. With a mere thought, Raven felt her bone structure conforming, her body compacting, and her senses heightening, as she took on the guise of a silent hyena with her prey in view.

His keen sense of perception saved him. Only a second away from her pouncing on him, Gambit wheeled around and sidestepped Raven's attack. In mid air, her lean body thrashed at the evading mutant, and she managed to paw at his stomach, tearing his uniform with her claws but unable to make contact with skin. Gambit stepped backwards, surprised at her reach, five fresh slashes in the front of his uniform but hardly fazed. He flipped backwards to a safer distance, but Raven charged again, teeth bared. A Bo staff appeared from a pocket in his trench coat, arcing down towards her skull. Raven ducked in low and took the blow to her flank, undeterred by the brazen flash of pain. Teeth sank into Gambit's thigh, but just as she broke skin, his fist connected with her head and he forced her muzzle open and shoved her backwards.

"We been lookin' for y', Mystique. Nice of y' ta drop by." The staff slammed against the metal floor with a reverberating _twang_, as Raven dodged the assault. At close quarters once more, she was able to pounce into Gambit, needling him in the chest and using her momentum to carry him off his feet and onto his back. She could've gone for his throat, but their objective had not been to fatally wound any of the Acolytes; only to subdue and stun them in order to reclaim Rogue and use her to absorb their powers.

Instead, she bit down on his shoulder, piercing his trench coat, uniform underneath, and his flesh. He brought the back of his fist across her snout, and she tried to cling to him by digging her paws into his chest, but Gambit was able to pry her off and throw her to the floor behind his head. He whipped around and brought his staff around in a circle, sweeping her legs out from underneath and sending her sprawling backwards.

"Enough games, Mystique. What're yo' an' Mesmero plannin'? What's Rogue got ta do wit' it?"

Raven reclaimed her blue-skinned form and narrowed her eyes at the other mutant. Her attacks had not weakened him to the extent that she'd hope for. His thigh had taken the most damage, with trickles of blood flowing freely down his leg. Nothing serious, but enough to hinder his quick movements and evasion. His shoulder was punctured but hardly bleeding, and it did not prevent him from handling his weapon.

Dipping into another pocket, he drew a hand of playing cards and surged them with kinetic energy before casting the explosive projectiles in Raven's direction. She rushed them, bending her knees and lunging over the missiles, over Gambit, and landing with a roll that brought her next to Rogue and the illusionist.

Her fist cracked against the inattentive mutant's cheek, and he went down in a heap, his mind games with Rogue ended.

Blinking, Rogue groaned and shook her head, attempting to clear the fog in her mind. Her lifeless eyes settled on Raven, and they lit up with vigor.

"_Rogue----"_ Raven cried out, as Rogue's battle instincts kicked in to compensate for her mangled senses and perception, her bare hand shooting out and clutching Raven's forearm.

Her muscles screamed and her head pounded and suddenly it hurt too much to stand. She caught a brief glance of Mesmero stepping into the room before the edges of her vision dimmed as a tide of darkness swam over her. Numbed, she could barely register collapsing onto the hard metal floor, her sight filling with blackness and then cold relief.

As Rogue's powers took their toll on Raven, Mesmero intervened before Rogue could maximize on the shape-shifter's talents. He entered her mind and sedated the flow of Mystique's life force into the girl's head; with little mental effort, he grasped her consciousness and obtained control over her mind. Working her like a puppet, Mesmero coerced Rogue with intentions of getting her to absorb all of the Acolytes.

From behind him, Magneto straggled on the floor and reached out, focusing his powers on the unoccupied metal chair in the center of the room. He snapped it off the floor and hurled it towards Mesmero.

Somehow, Rogue reached Mesmero and tackled the puppeteer mutant out of the chair's path, as it flew over their heads and collided with the wall. Mesmero faced Magneto and rendered him unconscious once more with a small psychic blast, before turning his attention back to the missing Gambit. With the coattail of his trench coat disappearing into the corridor, Mesmero sent Rogue after him, where she absorbed Magneto and Colossus inside the corridor before initiating a chase with the mutant thief.

Giving a side glance in Mystique's direction, he saw her slowly beginning to rise, and knowing that she would follow easily enough, he hurried after Rogue.

With little effort, Rogue absorbed Pyro as he stepped into the corridor, rubbing his head. She covered his face with her palm and cast him back into the storage room. Gambit ducked to the right, and Rogue pursued; Mesmero right behind her.

Sabretooth stumbled into the room and out from the cold, giving low growls as he placed a hand to his head. Sighting Gambit, he stopped and asked, "What're ya doin'?"

"Savin' m' hide, Furball," he snapped, dashing past Sabretooth and through the open doorway to exit the dome. Sabretooth watched him with mild curiosity, and then turned around as a small hand cupped around his throat and forced him into the wall, draining him of all his energy.

Gambit slid down a bank and ducked behind the skeletons of winter trees, his senses trained for Rogue coming behind him. When she did not pursue him any further, he stopped behind a tree trunk and peered out over the fading winter landscape. She was nowhere to be seen; only the desolate silence accompanied the Cajun.

Moments later, an invisible slit cut through the tip of the dome, arcing through its top and splitting open with the two halves sliding apart to reveal an opening large enough for a single metal orb to shoot out into the sky and disappear in the heavy clouds above the dome. The halves sealed shut once more, and Gambit was left as the only conscious Acolyte. Rogue had the majority of their powers, and with Mystique and Mesmero carting her around like a marionette, there was no telling what they had planned next.

If Mesmero's intention had been to take possession of Rogue and use her against the Acolytes, no doubt he would prolong her usefulness and stick her amongst the X-men and Brotherhood to collect on their powers, too.

For Rogue's sake, Gambit knew he would have to track down the X-men. Whether they would hear him out or not would be their decision, but as long as Mesmero had Rogue under his influence, none of them would be safe from the girl's leeching powers, or her controller's dark intent.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**A/N: **Few more chapters to go. Please review!

-fathoms-


	5. Pursuit

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters; they are all Marvel's property.**

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_Prisoners of the Heart_

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**A/N: **I hadn't planned on changing anything about the end of season three, but this kind of just fell in place and worked out a little better than what I had planned earlier. As I said before, this is going to be a short story and only one more chapter after this, but it will be a chock-full Romy chapter with some interesting insights hopefully. Thanks again to all you reviewers; please hang in there. And anyone new, please feel free to send a review in. Let me know how things are playing out.

Paksennarion: Good question. In the two-part episode at the end of season three, Rogue was used by Mesmero to absorb so many mutants' powers. I suppose that meant she absorbed them long enough to hold onto the powers and keep them at her disposal until all of it was leeched out of her by Apocalypse. This probably had something to do with Mesmero's control over her and her powers as well, accessing more of her potential.

Unforgivable Horror: I agree. The way it was changed wasn't as fun as the original waswith the kiss.

Enjoy...

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_Pursuit_

Trekking on foot would've taken too many hours for Remy to reach the Xavier Institute, but with the right amount of skill, and at the expense of someone else's carelessness, he hitched a ride and made it to the mansion grounds in just under two hours, having walked down the mountain and past the ski lodge on foot. He ditched the wired car in some brush alongside the main road leading to the property's main entrance gates. Concealed in the brush as well, Remy scanned the entrance and the security cam swerving from its point on a pillar that framed the front gates. The electronic surveillance swept the area in front of the gates, probably with heat sensors or some other equipment that could detect a loitering presence when the visual was obscured by night. Cloaked in the shadows and the brush, Remy looked overhead and spotted the moon as it hid behind a meandering cloud. Shafts of moonlight disappeared from in front of the entrance gates as Remy watched, but he wasn't planning on using the front door anyways. He knew better.

Several security cams were stationed alongside the perimeter of the property, linked to the stone wall that wrapped around the front of the mansion grounds within the brush, while the other half was composed of cliffs. Remy stayed light on his feet with one hand tucked into his pocket, his fingertips tracing the edges of his deck. The surveillance would be easy to avoid, thanks to years of honing his stealth as a thief back home in Louisiana, long before he'd even considered the world of mutants, X-men, and Magneto. Just in case any unwanted artillery popped up before he could make it inside, Remy was ready to toss a few kinetically-charged playing cards, even if it did make his presence known and thereby unwelcome. However, evasiveness was key, and being discreet and calculative with his movements could earn him a safe passage into the mansion without ever having to toss a card.

Before he could even stretch his limbs and prepare for a little fun, Remy heard the air shift far above his head, above the reaches of the trees, and to his slight dismay, he realized that gaining entry into the X-men's stronghold would be easier than first thought; though much less entertaining or challenging.

Still blending in with the shadows and brush, Remy dipped lower as four metal spheres floated down to the road, landing with a lofty silence and splitting open immediately. Magneto climbed out of the first one, while the other three Acolytes stepped out of their respective transport orbs.

The grinding of metal ruined the midnight symphony of cicadas, as Magneto brought the gates crashing down inside the property. The security cam swiveled and focused directly on him. No alarms sounded, but the massive landscape of the front lawn shifted into less friendly scenery, as blasters, cannons, and shooters rose from the subterranean level, all of them aimed at Magneto and the approaching Acolytes who trailed him so boldly.

The X-men's defenses were no match for Magneto, let alone his accompanying underlings, though they didn't lift a finger of assistance. A mere glance from the caped mutant rendered each device incapacitated; a single wave of the hand ripped the weapons from their circuited bases, sending them into the sky, where they crashed down elsewhere, ruining unseen topiaries.

The fountain in front of the mansion shifted, its tall sculptured centerpiece rising above the stone base in the middle of the water and revealing an energy blasting canon. One bolt escaped the weapon, hitting the grass to Magneto's right, and then it short-circuited, the statue tipping over and splashing into the water. For all Magneto's ease, Remy wondered why the man did not make more house calls to their rivals' home. Their defenses were utterly useless against his powers, and Magneto hadn't even started to warm up. If their home was so vulnerable, why did he not bring battles straight to their front lawn?

Finally, when it seemed like none of the X-men were home, Wolverine leapt off a balcony and landed between Magneto and the entrance to the foyer, adamantium bared. His claws gleamed in the moonlight, their lethalness taking on an ethereal glow as they extended from his knuckles. Remy expected Magneto to thrust the feral mutant's limbs outwards and suspend him in the air.

He stopped a few steps from the stairs leading into the mansion. One flick of the wrist could control the metal staged beneath Wolverine's flesh, grafted to his skeleton and his bone claws. Magneto could dominate the other mutant, toy with him like a puppet. But he only sized up his opponent with a single look, and glanced back over his shoulder at Sabretooth, saying something that Remy couldn't hear. As he rejoined the ranks of Magneto's team, stepping up in between Colossus and Pyro, he saw Sabretooth hunch his shoulders and growl, but another scolding from Magneto sedated him to silent glares that burned into his longtime rival and fellow subject of the Weapon X project years ago.

"Where is she?" Magneto demanded, calm but impatient. His hands folded over the armor protecting his chest.

"There's a lot of "she"s 'round here, bub. How 'bout naming' one of 'em?" Wolverine sneered, his claws dancing in the air, anxious to pierce armor or flesh. The claws stopped and spread, bringing Wolverine's arms up and his legs out, as Magneto finally took control of the adamantium with little more effort than it took to blink. Snarling, Wolverine fought the invisible restraints on his appendages, to no avail.

"Where is Xavier?"

"That's enough!" Cyclops appeared behind the restrained Wolverine, as the front doors opened to reveal numerous other X-men beside and behind the visor-wearing mutant. Remy drew his Bo staff out to look threatening, to show the X-men that he wasn't here to share his concerns about their missing link. Still, he thought of the lifeless, corrupted gaze of the untouchable southerner, as Mesmero had entered her brain's control room and took up the reins.

"Where's Rogue?" The floating redhead next to Cyclops demanded. Remy could only remember a select few of the X-men's codenames. They'd only done battle once, and it had been a short scuffle. The Sentinel had made sure of that.

"Don't be coy with me, Miss Grey," Magneto threatened. "Where are you, Charles?"

"Right here, Magneto." Professor X wheeled beneath the redhead and next to Cyclops, his gaze intent on his perpetual rival and friend, fingers forming a steeple beneath his chin. In an inquisitive, irritable voice, he asked, "What is the meaning of this? You have no right to come and disturb my family in the wee hours of the night. Explain yourself, Magneto."

"The girl is under Mesmero's control, Charles! She absorbed our powers and he wiped it from our memories with his powers."

"Rogue…What proof have you?" Professor X challenged, though from the look in his eyes, he seemed to have already suspected something.

Remy looked at the X-men and took in some of their disheveled appearances, and he began to wonder how quickly Rogue could've traveled in one of those orbs, if she'd been able to hit the X-men up in the middle of the night. Two hours had passed since he'd seen her, and with Magneto's powers at her disposal, she could've traveled all over Bayville in the orb, hidden in the nighttime sky.

"My surveillance tapes recorded the whole thing." He failed to mention the fact that Remy was the lone survivor of the memory-wipe.

"Logan, track Rogue as best you can. I'll use Cerebro to locate the most recent signature of her powers, or Mesmero's. I will inform you where to look, but I need you in town. I have a feeling the two of them will be leaving the country as soon as possible."

"You two," Magneto turned and motioned at Sabretooth and Gambit. "Go with him."

"_No_," Sabretooth growled.

"I can handle it alone, Chuck."

"No, Logan." The Professor gave a brief look at Magneto. "The stakes are too high."

"We still need to research, Charles. We must find the location of Apocalypse's tomb."

Remy stepped back and allowed the two mentors to engage in their plan of action. Following Wolverine and Sabretooth into the garage, he found them arguing over which motorcycle to take, their egos already clashing and their fangs already bared. Remy sighed and shoved them both away with his Bo staff, taking a seat on the motorcycle in question.

Two hands grabbed onto his trench coat and threw him off the bike. Landing on his back and catching his Bo staff, he gave a sheepish smile at the two other men.

"Well, this ought t' be interestin'."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The trio made it onto the highway in little time, Remy hanging back in case either Wolverine or Sabretooth tried to run the other off the road. The Professor's voice reached their minds not long after they pulled out onto the highway.

_Your mental blocks are in place, and Cerebro has detected the last signature of Rogue's powers somewhere near the airport. The rest of us will be heading to Apocalypse's tomb in Egypt. Good luck to you all._

Wolverine sped up on his bike, passing by Sabretooth and leading the three of them further along the highway until they reached the exit leading to the airport. He cut a right, screeching westbound and circling down the ramp. The small airport was on the outskirts of Bayville, its control tower reaching into the darkening sky. With the moon hidden behind gray clouds, they had to rely on lamplight from the sides of the road to guide them into the parking lot of the property. They almost missed the limousine parked off to the side, its exterior black as shadows, but the two senses-enhanced mutants swerved into the far reaches of the dark, outside the orange luminescence lining the outside of the parking lot. Remy cut left and followed, his trench coat kicking up and flapping in the wind, as Wolverine and Sabretooth pulled to a stop ahead of him, sidling off their bikes and rounding the limo from opposite sides. As Remy halted and killed the ignition of his bike, the two other men ripped off doors from the limo and ducked inside the front of the elongated vehicle.

After countless sniffs and flares of nostrils, Wolverine declared, "_Rogue!_"

"_Mesmero!_" Sabertooth roared from across the console.

"There's a third scent I can't detect."

"They must've left by boat," Sabretooth commented, staring at the body of water not far from the airport parking lot.

Remy chuckled and corrected him. "Or plane." He nodded in the direction of an aircraft touching down on the runway, and then he pointed at the control tower not far from the parking lot. The other two mutants understood, and the three of them left the limo and their bikes behind, reaching the airport's control tower in little over two minutes.

When they entered the main control room, they found a number of airport officials and workers unconscious on the floor.

"We're too late," Sabretooth admitted, glancing around the tiny room. Remy stepped up to one of the control panels and investigated the different devices.

"I'd bet dat's dem," he said, indicating a blinking orange dot on the radar. "Looks like we'll be needin' a plane, boys."

Ten minutes later, they were soaring through the sky thanks to Wolverine's expertise, much learned from manning the X-jet and Blackbird countless times. Sabretooth refused to assist him in the piloting of the aircraft, so Remy had to step in and listen to all that the other mutant said. He ignored the sulking Sabretooth behind him, the large mutant already getting agitated with the lack of action.

"Where do y' t'ink they're headed?"

Wolverine glanced at his co-pilot and then at the radar. "Hard to say. But I hope you packed a change of underwear, bub. I've got a feelin' this is gonna be a _long_ ride."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Nearly twelve hours later, disregarding the time changes, Wolverine and Remy lowered the jet onto a snowy peak in Tibet, next to a similar plane already stationary. Wolverine and Sabretooth were out of the plane quickly, jumping to the snowy ground and sniffing the air. The advent of a blizzard was at hand.

Remy gave an irritable sigh, having forgotten to bring any long underwear. To avoid the biting cold, he tied his trench coat tightly, as his battle almost fourteen hours ago with Mystique had left his uniform slightly tattered. He dropped down to the snow-covered peak, and found Wolverine and Sabretooth inspecting three trails of footprints like a couple of bloodhounds.

"Rogue and Mesmero," Sabretooth declared.

"Can't place the third one. Gotta be Mystique." Wolverine added, sniffing one of the tracks.

Remy rolled his eyes and moved in between the two mutants, and said, "Why don't we just follow the footprints?"

They glared at him but complied, and the trio began their trek through the Himalayas. Not far had they gone before the tiny figures of Rogue, Mesmero, and Mystique came into view farther up ahead on the trial. The cloaked figure, Mesmero, turned and stared down at them, while Rogue and Mystique continued on.

The psychic blast shrieked in Remy's skull, the surprise and intensity causing him to cry out and fall because of sudden numbness in his legs. He collapsed into the snow, withering alongside Sabretooth and Wolverine as Mesmero continued to pound away at their minds, attempting to force his way into their thoughts. When he couldn't control them, due to the mental blocks placed in their minds by Xavier, he inflicted enough psychic trauma to stun them for a few moments, and then he turned and continued up the mountain.

"The Professor's mental blocks probably just saved our lives," Wolverine mused aloud, steadying himself as he tried to stand.

"Lucky for you," Sabretooth replied curtly. "Mesmero told me to push you off the mountain. Problem is, I'm still tempted to."

"Do me a favor," Remy snapped, climbing to his feet and stepping between the glowering mutants. "Why don' y' both jump off the mountain!"

They continued their pursuit, fending off the increasing flurries of snow and trying to clear away the fog bred inside their heads from Mesmero's assault. Wolverine took out the comm.-link he'd pocket earlier from his motorcycle, and informed whoever was on the other side of the connection that they were currently tracking Mesmero and Rogue in the Himalayas, and Mystique was with them. A deep voice responded back, but Remy was too focused on other things; namely, Rogue, to process the voice. Mesmero's control would leave her so fragile, and Remy had to fight the urge to break into a sprint and rush the group from behind. Recklessness wasn't in his repertoire, but the thought of someone so deceived as Rogue being manipulated for the umpteenth time brought about a silent rage inside him. The feeling was awkward and disconcerting, but ever since their first meeting, when he'd almost blown her up, he'd been appraising the smitten girl inside his head, sometimes inquiring of Magneto to learn more about her. There seemed to be a connection between them, the two southerners, as if they were cut from the same block. He briefly thought of Jean-Luc and the Thieves' Guild, setting it as a backdrop in comparison to Rogue's history with Mystique.

Seemed they had something in common after all.

When they reached the summit ten minutes later, Remy placed his hands on the stone block denying them access to the cavern. Wolverine and Sabretooth stepped back to allow him room to work his mojo, as he sent waves of kinetic energy seeping through the rocky barrier. He jumped back to avoid any scattering of debris in their direction, and he gave a smug smile as the block exploded with a resounding _bang_, showering the inside of the cavern with bits and pieces of rocks.

Remy caught a brief glimpse of Rogue disappearing into a darkened archway, her movements akin to that of someone in a trance. Mesmero turned to face them, drawing his scepter from beneath his cloak. Mystique was nowhere to be seen.

"You cannot fight destiny!" the tattooed mutant bellowed, wielding his weapon with skill, twirling it with deadly control.

Sabretooth struck first, with a downwards arc of his claws, intent on pummeling the smaller man. One end of the scepter jabbed him in the abdomen, and a blast of energy stunned the feral mutant, sending him sprawling backwards. Mesmero evaded Wolverine's swipes, landing a crushing blow with his weapon and dropping the other mutant without even taking a hit. Remy stepped up while withdrawing his Bo staff, spinning it in his fingers with more dexterity than Mesmero had shown. They clashed staves, but with the added energy and mass, Mesmero's sliced right through Remy's staff, cutting off a third of the weapon. Dumbfounded, Remy frowned at his opponent, and then reacted too late, as the end of the scepter dug into his stomach, the energy scorching his trench coat and tearing through the belt he'd used to tie it together. The coat flapped open as the energy singed his exposed flesh from beneath the five tears in his uniform, and the force of the blow sent him off his feet, the air rushing out of his lungs as he hit the hard floor and doubled over.

The only one standing, Mesmero taunted them with a twisted grin, choosing a target to aim his scepter at. The energy blast connected with Sabretooth and drove him back to the ground. He then stalked towards Wolverine, but Remy was on his feet and rushing in between them. Sliding off his trench coat, he leapt off the ground and flipped in the air, trying to wrap the coat around Mesmero to distract him. In mid air, he slid out his deck of cards and slapped the floor with his feet, landing behind Mesmero and wrapping his trench coat around his adversary.

With unexpected speed, Mesmero enabled his weapon to pierce through the coat, just as Wolverine was about to lunge at him. He rammed one end of the staff into his temple and the other end into Remy's chest. The simultaneous blows whipped Wolverine off his feet and sent him to the ground, where he cracked his head against the stone flooring. The second discharge of energy Mesmero inflicted on Remy was stronger than the first, a more potent blast that bruised his chest, tore apart the front of his shirt, and scalded his flesh. Remy grunted and his knees buckled, but he managed to bring up his ruined Bo staff and still give it good use, the unmarred end of it colliding with Mesmero's chin as he fell into a backwards roll. The mutant controller staggered backwards, surprised and jarred, while Remy hobbled onto his knees. His chest heaved and his breaths were rapid, but amidst the smell of scorched flesh searing his nostrils, he clutched his deck and held his ground.

"Y' like ta play games, don' y', Mesmero?" He charged the whole deck and dispersed it wildly in the direction of his opponent. "Dis one's called fifty-two card pick-up." He whispered vehemently, and collapsed onto his back, as the first card struck the ground and detonated. The chain reaction from the first blast engulfed most of the remaining cards, triggering them before they even touched surface. The result was a thunderous burst of kinetic energy with the force of an outpouring battering ram, casting Mesmero backwards as if he weighed next to nothing, sending him into a wall where he bumped the back of his head and crumpled to the floor, unconscious and out of control.

Remy was closest to the archway. Wolverine was recovering from both the blow to his head and the blow of his head to the floor. Sabertooth could barely stand after the double-dose of energy overload. Mesmero's first attack against Remy had lacked the high energy potency as his second one, but the two attacks together did not prevent him from crawling towards the archway that Rogue had disappeared into. He could only draw short breaths due to the pain that flared as his chest expanded, but he soon realized the burn marks were not as horrible as they felt. He dropped onto his chest, the cold stone floor cooling the tenderness of his exposed skin, soothing his burns. Pushing up, he continued to crawl, struggling but determined; he didn't look twice as he spotted a petrified**-----**both literally and figuratively**----**Mystique with her hand pressed onto a pedestal, from the corner of his eye.

The stairs leading down into a cavernous hideout were a greater obstacle, and one slip of his hand brought Remy crashing down the steps, bracing his ribs against the sharp edges and cracking a knee and an elbow as well. He rolled to a stop halfway along a stone pathway, lying before a green glow from the other end. Remy rolled off his side, coughing, and spotted Rogue standing over some sort of foreign sarcophagus. She was only a few yards away from him, glancing around at her surroundings with dazed anxiety and confusion. Her eyes settled on Remy as he neared her feet, and her dark eyes widened. She blinked, her mouth opened**-----**

**-----**and a shriveled, much-aged hand shot out of the sarcophagus and snatched Rogue's bare hand.

Her screams were the darkest music Remy had ever heard; they punctured his soul and forced him to his feet with a roar of pain mixed with indignation. He stumbled, almost face-planted into the floor, but he held his balance. Witnessing what transpired between the mostly concealed body in the sarcophagus and a struggling Rogue left Remy with a hollow coldness swimming through his bones like an icy deluge of fear. Ghost-like doppelgangers of absorbed psyches passed from Rogue's body into the sarcophagus, as the poltergeist-esque disturbance put a strain on her torn face.

When the screams failed and Rogue moaned in utter defeat, the hand released her and she swayed, losing her balance as consciousness seeped out of her body. She toppled backwards into a weakened Remy, knocking him off his feet and sending them both crumbling to the floor. Rogue's cheek landed on the bare part of Remy's chest; the sudden shock that coursed through his veins was mercifully unfelt, as his whole world faded to black.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**A/N: **Hope you enjoyed the battle scene; it was fun for me to write. Any ideas where this is going? Look for somethingspecialin the finalchapter, as Rogue and Remy finally come to terms in a peculiar way.

-fathoms-


	6. In the Wake of a Memory

**Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine; they are all Marvel's property.**

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_Prisoners of the Heart_

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**A/N: **Thanks again to all those who reviewed. Here's the final chapter; I know, it's a short story, but here's the end. I hope that it's interesting enough. Feedback welcomed! Enjoy!

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_In the Wake of a Memory_

The catacombs, the silence, and the shriveled being in the sarcophagus had long since faded, faded as if they were dreams that never really happened, only possibilities explored in her mind's playground.

Yet…those "dreams", those "memories", felt more alive to her than what was before her eyes.

Hiding along the Mississippi backwater, the bar was tiny and square, composed of countless wooden planks with its back area patio extending into the dark water with its wooden stilts touching the bottom beneath the murky surface. The air was humid enough to slick skin with sweat without much effort or strain. Mosquitoes buzzed and hummed around her, sticking to her clammy flesh for a quick splurge before darting away, lest she swat them while they drained her blood, crushing their fragile bodies into a sticky mess against her pale skin.

A party was going on inside the bar, but all the laughter, music, and stomps of feet were lost to her ears; the only accessible sounds being that of the natural world surrounding her. The inside of the bar was enshrouded, its patrons unseen except for blurred silhouettes, their presence meaning no more to her in this world than it did in reality. They could be called oblivious, but in truth, they were simply façades, no more than animated mannequins resembling each other. At one point though, they had been people to her, with names and faces; she'd known some of them and recognized others.

The lights strung alongside the building's awning were dull and divested of color, not the way she remembered them. The alligator watching her from a bank across the river was also foreign to her memory, as she had been standing in this very spot, her elbows propped up on the wooden banister of the patio, gazing out in the reflecting pool of darkness. An overcast night sky hung overhead, showing little reflection in the river as all the shadows merged into a dark mass beneath the patio.

A mosquito suckered on the nape of her neck, starving for her blood.

_Care t' dance, cherie?_

Rogue glanced backwards over her shoulder, twisting her body around so that her elbows still lay atop the railing, but now she faced the bar, leaning back and relaxed.

"Ah wasn't plannin' on it," Rogue whispered, gazing up into the sky and wishing for the stars.

_Really? Dat's a shame."_

His lips did not move, but he had no expertise in the field of ventriloquism; the voice she heard did not ring in her ears as her own voice did, but bounced around in her head, where her thoughts would be hanging out. Why he did not speak, only _thought_, Rogue did not know or care to know. They could communicate and that was the important thing. She wanted answers, whether they popped into her head or entered through her ears. She could process the explanations either way.

After a silent moment, the wind giving her white banks a lofty movement, she moved her gaze back at the only man who mattered right now. "Are ya hauntin' me, Gambit? Or are ya like somethin' out of _A Christmas Carol_?"

_I'm everyt'ing y' want an' not'ing' y' can have._

"Quit the cryptic crap," Rogue muttered. "As if mah life hasn' already become cryptic enough. Now Ah'm bein' haunted by a ghost."

She turned and looked back up into the Mississippian sky. Caldecott County was her home, so why did she feel so empty being home?

Of course, it wasn't real; it wasn't as if she'd actually taken a flight down south. This encounter was more along the lines of a frozen memory, tapped into her psyche and currently leaking into her unconscious mind. She had no other explanation, and Gambit wasn't the mutant who could bend her mind or her memories like this.

_Y' ain't bein' haunted, cherie. We jus' sharin' da same place fo' a little while. Maybe we can learn somethin' from each other._

"Join the club, Gambit. Everyone's been sharin' mah head! Ya ain't different!"

'_Cept, when was da last time dat y' found y'self trapped in a memory wit' someone else?_

He was right and he knew it. The smug smile was testing her, feeling out the boundaries of her bitterness and tempting her to lash out at him. What could she do to change things? She felt loneliness creep into the hollow of her bones, and any nostalgia for home quickly became poison to her soul once she remembered what this night long ago had brought. A prelude to a nightmare, and nothing less.

Gambit stepped closer, the condition of his uniform coming into view. Rogue saw that he was wearing a trench coat, aged by the elements and overuse, but still somewhat of a trademark as it adorned his shoulders and flapped near his heels. The front of his Acolyte uniform was in tatters, exposing a great deal of his chest. A fleeting sense of warmth**-----**a phantom sense**-----**briefly touched her cheek in a wisp. She recalled the warmth from another time, though in reality it was not so long ago. She remembered her cheek touching that warmth and sucking it dry, leaving only iciness.

With him standing so close to her**-----**towering over her**-----**Rogue stared straight into the tanned chest, broad and muscled, scorched flesh and contusions blooming beneath the skin, and searched for the tell tale sign of a heart beat, or for an expansion that would indicate the drawing of a breath. The night obscured her view, comforting in the fact that she could not discern if his heart was beating or if it was not. She chose to respect the mystery rather than discover a daggered truth.

'_S no need t' be afraid. _He stared down into her eyes, his ephemeral, haunting gaze searching her soul with cold inquisition. She feared that he would seek the bitterness and hatred that had settled in the caverns of her inner core; that he would learn of the betrayals and the lies that had torn her asunder, inside and out. Her mangled heart would be vulnerable to his inspection, susceptible to any attempts at mending. Pity and empathy were saved for others beside Rogue; she wanted her space respected more than she wanted someone trying to heal her emotional insides. In a dark sea of despair, she believed that sympathy would drown her as an anchor tethered to her ankle would. She wanted to be understood, but that was asking far too much of anybody, even herself.

Sympathy, empathy, and pity were all forms of understanding, but they fell short to true compassion of the heart, to the utmost awareness of her distress, as no one knew what she felt because no one else she knew shared her curse. Self-pity was a knife gorging her dignity, and she didn't indulge in it because she wanted to feel strong and secure, not supported by self-depreciation or misery. They would be crutches, weaknesses, but without them, Rogue would fall back down in the darkness again and again.

_Somethin' on y' mind?_

"Ya think?" Rogue snapped, disregarding her reverie and adjusting to what was in front of her. Lost in her thoughts, she would be vulnerable to inspection, and she didn't want someone like Gambit**-----**an enemy, a stranger**-----**to learn her darkest desires.

_I'm no shrink, but I**-----**_

"That's right! So just leave it at that! Ah want outta this prison!"

_Sorry, cherie, but yo' the one keepin' us both locked up. Obviously somethin' is wrong an' y' heart wants t' make amends. Do us both a favor an' put whatever's messin' y' up behind y' so we can return t' the real world. Comprendre? (Understand?)"_

"_But Ah can't!_" Exasperated, Rogue bumped the railing with her back and fell to the floor, glaring venomously at the faceless crowd beyond Gambit's legs.

_Or y' won'._

"Ya don' know me!" Rogue snarled, quickly regretting her words. They sounded bitter and rejecting, but they were out and she couldn't take them back. She sounded so childish, self-righteous. Maybe he didn't know her, but at least he wasn't wronging her, unlike some people in her life. His face appeared free of any masks, and though his intentions were unknown, he didn't seem to have any interest in thriving on deception. She just couldn't take any more twists and turns…She wanted a relationship where all the cards were on the table and nobody was bluffing.

'_Cause y' don' let anyone in, cherie. Y' make excuses, hide behind da past, an' no one knows y'. But can y' blame 'em?_

He drew in close, pinning her against the wooden banister. She shrank away from his exposed skin, fearing that even in dreams she could still cause others harm. He put an arm around her but she slid beneath it and ducked past him. "Jus' leave me alone! It's bad enough Ah'm stuck in the past, but Ah don' need any lectures!"

_Isolation never helped**-----**_

"Open yer mouth! Ah can't keep lookin' at ya with all this crazy ventriloquist voice crap inside mah head!"

Gambit frowned but then complied. His lips parted and released a horrendous sound of pain and agony that tortured Rogue as it assaulted her ears, forcing her to the wooden floor and pushing her to the edge of weeping. It was the sound of a dying man; her victim; a man losing his life force. She was his parasite and their relationship was the stuff of symbiosis, only neither of them benefited nor ended up any better than they started.

When he closed his mouth, the cacophony of anguish, his anguish, ceased and allowed Rogue to choke out a sob.

'_S better dis way. Dere's always a reason if I'm not talkin'._

"What?" Rogue whispered, shaking.

_Y' ain't the only one who likes t' hide their pain, cherie._ Gambit smiled and took her hand, lifting her up and steadying her. She drew away from the coldness emanating off his body, wretchedness withering her insides.

"Ya dead, aren't ya?" She eyed him, expecting the truth.

Gambit shrugged as if her question was irrelevant. _I'm whatever y' want me t' be._

"Nope, don' think so. Ah never wanted ya dead."

_Then I'm not dead._

"But yer cold as a corpse!" Rogue shrieked. His haunting gaze wrapped her up in a veil of guilt. "Ah want ya alive."

_Then let's move on from 'ere._

"I don't know how," Rogue admitted, dropping her gaze and looking out onto the water. "Ah don' even know why Ah'm here."

Gambit took her by the shoulders and turned her towards the open bar and dancing shadows. _Dis is where it all started. Y' mind is havin' trouble acceptin' the present, so it's revertin' back t' da past. Y' see, the past is gone, done, unchangeable. Y' can seek refuge in what cannot be changed, but it ain't healthy. Dere's a reason people say not t' live in yo' past._

"So what? Yeah, this is where mah powers manifested, when Cody touched me during the dance."

_Dis is the prelude t' yo' nightmare, cherie. Only, it's not a nightmare, but a beginnin' t' whatever y' make of it. Y' mind's havin' trouble controllin' its powers, so it's keepin' y' in a place where y' ain't got y' powers._

"Memories fade," Rogue spat, downcast. "Why would Ah be stranded here? This hasn't ever happened before."

_Y' never been absorbed by Apocalypse._

"Ah've never absorbed someone's life completely, either."

_Y' didn' steal anyone's life, cherie. I'm only dead if y' admit t' that._ He gave her a grin and touched her arm. _Case yo' were wonderin', it's not somethin' I'd like t' try out._

Rogue bit her lip and stared down at her shoes. So much had been going on lately, and she only wanted to rest. Apocalypse granted her that, but not without giving her a taste of her own medicine. She looked up into Gambit's eyes knowing what it really felt like to have your life force stolen, your personality spliced, your memories and abilities robbed. Countless times she'd wondered how it felt to be absorbed; being on the receiving end ranged from nausea to dizziness to overwhelming montages that so badly confused her. She suffered most of the mental and emotional ramifications, but when Apocalypse somehow placed her on the other end of her leeching powers; she truly experienced the physical pain it caused. The shock sent her mind haywire, caused her muscles to burn, convulse, tighten, and go numb, until her vision blurred and her consciousness fluttered away.

Though she realized now that she had collided with Gambit and absorbed him, causing their unconscious minds to merge into one dream-like realm. She had been semi-conscious upon impacting him, unable to register the touch. The brief rush of energy had moved through her as she sapped it from Gambit; the transference had been cut short by her faint. The voices, the psyches, and the personalities were truly gone. Apocalypse had done what Charles Xavier could not, had given her a reprieve from the insanity that was dueling personalities within her head. She could never be thankful for being absorbed herself, but the perspective was changed and she had come out with an advantage…if she could only escape from her current dilemma, and only with Gambit alive and well.

She didn't want to be at fault for someone else's death, even if he was an Acolyte. Enemy or not, she didn't want to fully absorb anybody, leaving their body lifeless as a carcass.

"How…can Ah get mah mind ta accept things and move on?" Rogue asked. "Ah know in mah heart that Ah want everythin' ta be back ta normal, but Ah know that's never gonna happen. Ah want ya alive and Ah want ta stop Apocalypse."

_Words are words, Rogue. Yo' gotta want all dis wit' yo' heart t' make it happen._

"Ah do already!"

_Y' need t' trust, Rogue. I know it's hard, but we ain't movin' anywhere until y' learn how t' trust._

"Trust is foolish, Gambit. Trust is vulnerable, trust is weakness, trust is a set-up. Ah've learned the hard way. A little trust goes a long way for a lotta pain."

_Now, I know y' not that cynical, Rogue. Y' jus' trusted the wrong people, dat's all. But look at all da people y' have trusted dat have come through fo' y'._

"The X-men…" Rogue mumbled. He was right; they had been her strongest support, and they still would be, even though she was the one who released Apocalypse. They always had and always wound trust her, no matter how shaky she returned it. She couldn't let it be a one-way street forever.

_Trust _me_, cherie. Y' can't do everyt'ing alone._

"Trust a ghost?" Rogue asked skeptically.

_If dat's what y' want t' call me._

"Ah want ya ta be alive! Don' ya understand that? Ah can't keep mahself together if Ah'm responsible fo' someone's death."

_Then _trust_, Rogue, trust dat I'm alive, trust dat yo' a good person, an' trust dat y've got people lookin' out for y'._

Rogue eyed him warily, stepping backwards as he stuck his hand out. _Trust me, an' take m' hand._

"Yo' crazy, Cajun. Ah don' care if this is a dream or not, but Ah ain't touchin' yo' hand."

_Den we stay 'ere forever, cherie. Jus' trust._

His hand came a little closer.

"Trust."

"Trust."

Rogue gasped at the simple word coming from his mouth, tender and meaningful and flowing through her ears, not her head.

"Trust," Rogue said a second time and reached out tentatively. "Trust."

She didn't know what to expect, but when Rogue placed her hand in Gambit's, a sudden, familiar shock coursed through her body, but only for a moment. The ground disappeared from under them, and Rogue felt as if they were being sucked into the sky. They were floating, hand in hand, free falling into oblivion, weightless and senseless. Warmth returned to the hand grasping hers, and Rouge glanced over at Gambit. A boyish grin played onto his face before his eyes closed and his body grew limp. Rogue gazed at him, longing for his smile, treasuring his warmth, but as a solid surface began to materialize beneath them, and a deepening ache resurfaced in Rogue's head, she released Gambit's hand for fear of reality tampering with their touch, as her eyes closed and serene darkness overtook her.

The transition had felt short, but through closed eyes Rogue knew they were back in the catacombs. Her whole body ached and prevented her from moving much, but she was able to tilt her head and open her eyes, finding Gambit's face not far from hers. They weren't touching each other, either.

He winked and whispered something in her ears with a dry, throaty voice. "You and me, Rogue, we're two o' a kind. Never forget dat."

With his piece spoken, Gambit's eyes fluttered close and his head tilted away from hers. Rogue smiled at him, tears stinging her eyes. "Sugah," she whispered, her drawl thick as honey.

"Hmmm?"

_Trust,_ Rogue repeated in her head, determined to do whatever it takes to right the wrongs and free the demons; she was ready to _live_, and ready to be _free_.

"Thank ya."

_**FIN**_

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**A/N: **Well, there it is! Thanks for sticking around; hope you enjoyed it! Please send any comments or thoughts in a review and let me know what you thought of the story. I appreciate your time taken to read the story and send any reviews! Happy writing and see ya next time!

-fathoms-


End file.
